Death Becomes Her
by C
Summary: A young woman left her family and friends ten years ago to become a (drum roll....) HIT-WITCH! Now she is offered a job to murder one of her friends. And now her world is turned upside-down as she re-enters the world that she left so long ago. A tale of
1. The Courtyard in Paris

Chapter 01

* * * * *

There is a Disclaimer to this story. It is that the characters that I am using are of _JK Rowling_'s property. The story was, interestingly enough, inspired by the film "_Grosse Point Blank_" and some of my dialogue is loosely taken from the film. I have no idea how it came to this. But I'll tell you that I'm not intending on having a reunion or anything – just some dialogue and, er, scenes have been taken and altered from the film. Also the Silver Arrow is a restaurant in Verrtick Alley, which was invented by **A. Spinnet** and I have her permission to use it. But I think the plot is mine. At least I hope that I claim it as mine.

This is my very first piece of Fanfiction. But I'm not going to go off and say that you must be gentle because I'm just a beginner. To be honest, I don't mind whether I get a Flame or a Brilliant Review, though a brilliant review is much preferred. In my opinion; Flames are useless. But if you have something good to say, like my grammars all-wrong, or that the story is too vague and you have a suggestion on how to improve it. Then the _constructive criticism_ is welcomed with opened arms.

Ladies' and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. Welcome to my story…

* * * * *

**_Chapter O1 – The Courtyard in Paris_**

* * * * *

_"After all, to the well-organised mind,_

_death is but the next great adventure"_

– **JK Rowling. Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone, Page 215, Paragraph 16, Line 3-4.**

I aimed my wand expertly at the pompous looking man in the hotel courtyard. He took a sip from his whiskey glass and settled back in his chair opening the evening paper. He seemed completely harmless and it was a shame he had to die. I glanced quickly around him to make sure that the area was clear. You had to be a sharp shot from this distance and you didn't want any extra bodies. I squinted at him, making sure that he was within the aim of my wand; it wasn't hard considering his size. I took several deep breaths. Now for the hard bit.

'Three. Two. One.' I counted. '_Avada Kedavra_'

Immediately, I felt my wand shake and a surge of deadly power shot out the end of it. And invisible death raced towards the man and engulfed him. For a split-second his eyes grew wide in terror as he realised that the sharp gasp of shock he took was his last. He slumped in the chair, the paper floating to the ground. I silently congratulated myself on applying the _Incognito_ charm on my wand that morning. No one would have been able to see the source of the curse.

I quickly pocketed my wand and walked back into my hotel room. I swiftly grabbed my coat and walked downstairs into the lobby.

'Could I please use your Floo Fire?' I asked the receptionist, smiling sweetly.

The receptionist nodded. 'Of course, Madame! Where are you intending on going?'

'Diagon Alley in London.'

She opened a jar on the desk and measured out five grams of floo powder. 'That will be fourteen sickles and two knuts, please.'

My eyes must've widened in surprise because she then added. 'The fare is very high when you are crossing borders and the Channel.'

I hastily opened my purse and counted out the money in exchange for the bag of powder.

'Zee furnace is down the corridor and to the left.'

I thanked her and walked to the furnace. As I stepped into furnace and said my destination, I heard a blood-curdling scream. A scream of a waitress finding a dead body in the courtyard of a small hotel in Paris.

* * * *

I lit a cigarette as I walked into my office in Diagon Alley. I don't usually smoke, it's a dreadful habit, and I know the consequences of it. But sometimes I just needed to relax, unwind – which is pretty hard considering my job. I walked to the desk of my secretary, Fiona.

'Good Morning, Miss!' she said cheerfully. 'Did the job go well?'

I nodded. 'Yup. Clean as a whistle. He didn't know what was coming to him.'

'That's good. You have three messages.'

'Oh?' I said. 'And what might they be?'

Fiona ruffled through some papers and found a list. 'Someone wants you to delete the owner of the Silver Arrow, and then there's an offer for Graham Chambers – you know, the new conductor for the symphony choir.'

I raised my eyebrows. People wanted people dead for such petty things these days. 'Who's the last one?'

She bit her lip. 'I don't think you'll like this one.' She said. 'It's pretty weird.'

I shrugged. 'So? Who's the person that someone wants dead?'

'The Minister of Magic. Percy Weasley.'

'Ouch.' I sighed. 'That's a toughie. He's got protection 24/7… How do they want him done?'

'It's pretty sickening, Miss. They want the Cruciatus curse and the Imperius curse combined. They want to torture him into killing himself.' Fiona said, looking green at the very thought of it.

I myself felt ill too. That was the most horrible way to die. I took a deep breath. 'What are they offering me?'

Fiona turned very pale. 'Oh, Miss! You're surely not thinking of taking the job!'

'I don't know.'

'Well, they're offering big money.' She gulped. 'Twenty three thousand galleons to be precise.'

I stubbed out the cigarette. 'Tell them that I'll take it.'

Fiona began to look very sick. 'But I thought that you _knew_ him when you were younger!'

'I did. But it's not me who wants him dead. It's my potential client. I do it for the money… I honestly don't realise why people think it's personal.'

She looked at me sympathetically. 'Don't you think it's time that you stop doing this?' She said. 'Isn't the job beginning to get to you?'

'Yeah. It always does. But it doesn't make me feel ill. I'm just the hand that's being made to do the dirty work. It's not me.'

Fiona looked at me incredulously. 'Go home, Miss. Take a rest. Clean your wand. Just take a few days off from popping people off..'

I thought about it for a moment. 'Okay then, Fiona. I'll take a bit of a break. Two days. Maybe three.' I picked up my wand from the table and headed for the door.

'Oh! And Miss!' She called out after me.

I turned.

'Maybe you should get back into contact with Weasley.'

'Why?'

'So you can see the pointlessness in killing him.'

I shrugged again. '_Goodbye_ Fiona.'

'Bye Miss!'

* * * *

My flat was empty. Just a bed, a kitchen and a table. I never had time to decorate. It was always country and county hopping to erase people. Normally people who had been up to bad business, but sometimes I got the odd client who wanted to get rid of an old enemy. Sad really. I never had time to have friends for dinner or to go out and enjoy myself. I had a shelf life. It was always work – office – sleep. That was my life in a nutshell. It hadn't always been like that. But I ended up leaving my happy life for a sad one. How stupid. And I wasn't even popular in my job. Since I was female, it was regarded horrible to be a – oh I can't say it. Life was in shatters for me. And I couldn't pick up the pieces.

If anyone had told me when I was fifteen that I was going to be a – oh well, I'd better say it – _professional killer_ when I left school, I would've told them that they where mad and should be submitted into an asylum. I would've told them that I was going to become a worker for the Ministry or have some top earning job, get married to my school sweetheart, have a few children and settle down for a happy life in a happy house with a white picket fence. If I had been told that I left school in my second last term to be trained to eliminate someone, I would've told them that they missed their medication. If I had been told that I joined the Ministry in the Hit-Wizard department but left because I would've earned more in a self-ran firm, I would've told them to go and jump off a cliff. 

But they would've been telling the truth. In my second last term of school, I decided to take a chance and leave everything behind. I would leave my friends, family, professors, enemies and lovers. And I would sign up to learn how to kill someone effectively without getting caught. Well, I actually went to learn Army Intelligence, but when I took the test, it proved that I had a certain _talent_ in popping people off. Lovely, isn't it?

And everyone I knew thought I died or disappeared. They never realised that I was the person on the balcony watching them live their lives. They never realised that I was the first person to buy a ticket to they're first Quidditch game. And they certainly never realised that I was the odd looking woman standing next to them in the line at Florean Fortescues. I was watching them grow and glow, while I slowly mastered the art of aiming and uttering and leaving un noticed.

Yes, the job was getting to me. It was slowly eating away at me. And I have no idea why I accepted to murder Weasley. I suppose I've grown cold and only care about money. But I hope that I can stop myself from saying the two most dreaded curses on this earth.

* * * *

I never liked sleeping. It took up too much time. When I was younger, I would read instead of sleep. Now I would stay awake to carefully aim at the victim. And my discovery of caffeine had been a Godsend. But, that day, 'my day off', I actually slept quite a bit. It was very disturbing. I had dreams that were horrible. People I knew appearing and telling me to come back. But mostly Percy was appearing telling me not to kill him. It made feel uneasy that morning. Terribly uneasy. And it made me think of Fiona. I recalled something she told me a few weeks ago.

_"You have to have closure before you die. Otherwise you'll come back as a ghost. Ghost's always have unfinished business and they have to go around doing things they forgot to do when they were alive, but it takes longer time...You should really go and say sorry to the families of those people you killed. And get in touch with a few old friends. I'd hate to come back as a ghost – they're so transparent. I'd prefer to go straight to the other side."_

_ _

Perhaps I should go and get my closure, whatever that is. But saying sorry? That's like giving someone the axe to chop off my head. I'd like to keep my head, I quite value it. And I'd die before I went around as a headless ghost.

So this morning, when I woke up sweaty from my stressful sleep, I decided to go and find Percy. Maybe a professional killer should have a few guidelines. _I will not accept an offer to murder a friend_. As if. You do it for the money. And killers don't have morals. We don't. At least. I haven't been told we have them.

Huh, I just thought of the funniest thing. I'm unlisted. That's why no one could find me. I'm an unplottable person. If I weren't, I would be back at the stupid Ministry punching numbers. I just think it's weird. I could find _anyone_ but they couldn't find me. Not even the Ministry Intelligence Agency (MIA) could find me. And I worked for the MIA; I would've thought they knew me enough to find me. But maybe they don't want to find me. Maybe they've given up.

* * * *

Alcohol. It's a sin to drink it then apparate away to another place. That's why I use the Floo Network. It's private. The stupid Ministry could find me if I apparated a centimetre. They have to monitor all apparations. Just incase some idiot gets splinched. I've been lucky; I've never gotten splinched. And I'm lucky that I get jobs overseas. I can at least apparate overseas. I'm not classified as a missing person there. I'm just classified as a tourist. 

That got me thinking, as I walked down Diagon Alley and into Gringotts, what if I got a different passport? A different citizenship? Then I could be a tourist here and not use the Floo Network. That would be heaven.

I gave my Gringotts key to the goblin. I personally love Gringotts as a place. It's the only place where I'm still not 'missing' and the Ministry couldn't find out if I came in here once a month for a withdrawal if they tried. It's like a Swiss Bank Account. Very hush hush and trustworthy. The goblin led me to the cart and drove us down to my vault. When it was open, it was a great deal fuller than it was when I had first opened my account, and a great deal golder. I picked a few handfuls of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts and put them in my sack. Then we rose back above ground and I walked out calmly.

But on the inside I was shaking. My bleeding legs were leading me to the Ministry building. Stupid legs. I pushed the door open and walked over to the woman at the desk.

'Can I be of service, Miss?' She asked, looking thoroughly bored.

I coughed. 'Yes please. I would like to see the Minister of Magic.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Do you have an appointment?'

I shook my head truthfully.

'Well then,' She said smugly. 'No appointment, No Minister.'

'Please!' I protested. 'It's very important.'

She shook her head briskly. 'No. But perhaps I can take your name and contact address so he can call you.'

I bit my lip. 'Hermione Granger.' I sighed.

Immediately, her face changed to shock. 'I think you can go right in.' She mumbled, pressing an intercom. 'Mr. Weasley. I have a guest for you.'

'Now, Ms. Baxendale. You know what I said. No visitors until the end of the meeting.' Came an annoyed voice from the speakers. I smiled inwardly, that was Percy.

'But Sir,' She protested, lowering her voice. 'It's Hermione Granger.'

I could hear Percy making a choking sound, and several other people who were perhaps in the room gasping. One of them swearing loudly that this couldn't be true. My stomach did a flip-flop. Other people that I knew were there. This was the last thing I wanted. To see the faces of people who would be crying within a few weeks that Percy was killed. By me. But they wouldn't know that.

'Bring her up.' Said a parched voice that belonged to Percy.

The young woman switched off the intercom and hit a bell that was on the desk. Instantly a large, buff security guard came. 'Take her to the Minister's meeting room. Make sure that no one talks to her until you get there.' She said, authoritively.

The guard nodded and motioned for me to follow him. I sighed loudly and followed him up the winding stairs and passing several departments. I looked down at my shoes as I walked; I knew that people were staring at me – the missing girl. I felt a pang of guilt as I passed the reference library. The smell of books filled my nostrils and I truly regretted leaving the force. Finally, after several minutes, we arrived.

'In here, Miss.' said the guard, opening the door for me.

I took a deep breath and stepped in. I looked around me. It couldn't get any worse. Why did _everyone_ have to work for the Ministry? Not only was Percy in the room, but also there was also Harry, Neville, Oliver, Eleanor and Ginny. They were looking at me, their jaws on the floor.

Then Ginny rushed from her seat and embraced me, tears beginning to make stains on my robes. And by chain reaction – everyone followed in suit.

'Where have you been?' Sobbed Ginny. 'It's been ten years.'

Then the questions began to fly. From only three people. 

Oliver, Ginny and Eleanor. 

Percy, Harry and Neville looked like they were about to kill me. They were eyeing me dangerously. And I noticed they had not left their seats.

I bit my lip and walked over to Harry. 'Hey Harry.' I said, smiling weakly. 'How you been?'

He looked at me in the eye and scowled. 'Cut the crap, Granger.' He said acidly. 'Where have you been for the past ten years?'

This took me by surprise. Since when had he ever called me Granger? 

'Oh… around.' I replied vaguely. I flashed a smile to Neville. 'I need to speak with Percy.' I said.

Neville smiled softly at me while Percy puffed out his chest in his usual manner and walked over to me. And I suspect that the others heard my saying so as they all left the room, Ginny, Harry and Neville being the last. Ginny was still sobbing, Neville still being unusually quiet and Harry – well – he was still being very sour.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Percy turned to me, concern all over his face.

'Where _have_ you been and _what_ have you been doing?' He asked.

I bit my lip, debating with myself whether to tell him. 'I can't tell you.' I said finally.

Percy sighed. Defeated.

I silently told myself to deduct a bit of Fiona's pay. I definitely shouldn't have listened to her.

'Well, at least you could tell me what you've been doing.' He said, giving it another go.

I sighed. 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.' I said, silently wishing that I hadn't said that ridiculous pun.

He looked at me seriously. 'Hermione,' He said gently. 'No one knows about you being a part of the MIA for a few of those years when you disappeared. Not even Harry and Ron… I kept my promise to conceal you, but, Hermione, can you _please_ tell me where you have been, what you have been doing and why you are here, just to put one mind at ease?'

I took another deep breath. If I kept that going I could end up being an expert at giving birth.

'Okay.' I whispered. 'But you're not going to like it.'

* * * *

I think I'm an expert at screaming. And pointing. And making a racket. And bawling like no tomorrow. I actually have no idea why I never became an actress. I would've been a hit. Huh, another pun. I'm honestly becoming unbearable. But there I was, my wand back in my pocket, telling the authorities that the spark came from the window in the building opposite. And then Harry was there, with his arm around my shoulders telling me to calm down. I think he's forgiven me. And I'm laughing all the way to the bank.

My job isn't exactly horrible. In fact, I think I'm beginning to like it. But when you apply for something you can't put; _Professional Killer and proud of it_, on the line. It's ridiculous. But I get my pay.

And now, disappearing is harder than ever.

And so is going to Percy's funeral.

What a riot. They put on his grave; _Died through a window. May he rest in peace._ I really can't think why they put that. It's just weird. And untrue.

Percy never died through a window.

He died through me.

* * * *

There we go. My first bit of warped humour. How lovely.

And I'd like to thank **A. Spinnet **for allowing me to use the _Silver Arrow_ from her fic: "_To Love is a Crime_", which is the prequel to: "_To Love a Weasley_", both of which are excellent. Also, many thanks to her for giving this fic a good, long hard look before saying that it was ready for the public.

Thanks. 

You don't have to review. I'd like you to. But it's not an obligation.

And remember to tip your waitresses.

And as the secretary named Fiona says:

_"Death is me middle name. That's why I signed up for the job."_

_ _

And as the founder of the MIA and the Hit-Magicians Anonymous says:

_"We kill quick and easy and never get caught!"_

Isn't that lovely?

* * * *


	2. Drunk

Chapter 02

* * * * *

There is a Disclaimer to this story. It is that the characters that I am using are of _JK Rowling_'s property. The story was, interestingly enough, inspired by the film "_Grosse Point Blank_" and some of my dialogue is loosley taken from it. But unlike the film – there will be no High School Reunion. There will be no passionate love scenes (yet) and most of all, my character isn't intending on retiring just yet. 

This is my very first piece of Fanfiction. But I'm not going to go off and say that you must be gentle because I'm just a beginner. To be honest, I don't mind whether I get a Flame or a Brilliant Review, though a brilliant review is much preferred. In my opinion; Flames are useless. But if you have something good to say, like my grammars all wrong, or that the story is too vague and you have a suggestion on how to inprove it. Then the _constructive criticism_ is welcomed with opened arms.

The second chapter, my friends, is no longer an introduction. In the second chapter, we dive deeper into the dark life of Hermione Granger and encounter some no too welcome thoughts. Please be warned that since this story is written in first person, it's written as Hermione gets it. If she just thinks of something, it's most likely to come into this. It's not going to go into sudden descriptions of areas and such, Hermione knows what's around her, she's lived in the area all her life. And it's definitely not her fault if she doesn't describe the colour of the apothecary walls – she already knows its there and couldn't care less about it.

Welcome to Chapter Two…

* * * * *

**_Chapter O2 – Drunk_**

* * * * *

_"Mad, bad, and dangerous to know"_

– **Lady Caroline Lamb, Of Byron, in her Journal**

I have no friends. I know that. I know that I did have friends. I know that they loved me dearly and all that kind of stuff. And when I left, the passion that I held for my friends was still there. But as the years went by, the flame was dampened out by reality. My reality is that I kill people for money. Not a very glamorous job. And it's certainly not a job that you flaunt around to people. And unfortunately, when I killed darling Percy, I had to go back into my life with my circle of friends, and I had to make up a job. I certainly could not tell them that my job was deleting people and getting paid for it. And I _certainly_ couldn't tell them that I was the one who got Percy. Some part of me wanted to. But my heart that had frozen to ice was beginning to melt and told me not to. Hurting them for the third time isn't a very nice thing to do. 

And I had to face them every single day. It was like if they blinked, I would disappear. Which was probably most likely. I longed to just slip away out of the light back into the dark little corner that I called home. And Fiona was of no help. And she was of a lot of help. She helped me pick out a profession in which she could be incorporated in as my - of course - secretary. So she chose that we should have a private firm that specialised in, this is extremely eccentric, pet funerals. How… _cheerful_. I honestly wasn't in the best of moods when she declared that. But who am I to say that I wasn't nervous about having dinner that night at the Weasleys.

Which brings me to another point. The Weasleys. Such an annoying family bunch. It really tore them to shreds when Percy _died_. One member of the family down and eight to go. And what really gets me, is that now they're hanging on to me like a person who can't swim does to a bit of floating wood. Molly thinks I'm special and all because of me being the last person there at the very moment he died. You would think that they could put me on the suspect list at least. But no, it's old Mrs. Cobb the pensioner with arthritis who is _obviously_ the murderer. The magical world is so stupid at times. They should take a leaf out of the Muggles and they're forensic sciences. _They_ at least would convict me. I can't believe that I haven't been caught yet…

I've got another job on the weekend. This man named Nathaniel Hallidaye, who is the head of the Save-The-Mules campaign (don't ask me what that is, I have no idea) and he's apparently been making counterfeit money. I'd like to see the way he does that, it's past me how you could create false Galleons and Sickles when they're all made exculsively by the Gringotts goblins. But he probably worked there or had a goblin for a girlfriend. And I'm getting good money on the job too, nothing much compared to what I got for Percy, but it's still enough treasure – just above the minimum.

Oh no. I've just thought about Ron. I haven't seen him yet, but Harry tells me he's looking forward to seeing me. And now this huge stone is swelling in my stomach and I feel like vomitting. Ron. The boy I imagined myself being married to, having children with and living in that house with a white picket fence. My stupid school sweetheart. Then I thought it was love. When we shared our clumsy kisses, longer embraces and red faces. Oh sure, we _had_ passion. From all that fighting. And there _was_ emotion. We both had been brought up by loving parents and when it came to emotion, we had no choice but to show it. Unlike Harry. With Harry you can't tell whether he's mourning or ecstatic. That's what happens when you're orphaned at a very young age, then brought up by people who couldn't care less about you, you go all stony. No emotion. New, Ron, I suppose, was the worst of us. Of course, my parents loved me and I had my emotions, but when they missed my birthday for emergency root canals (and that happened not once, but about ten times), I learnt to take a deep breath and remain neutral. Ron just let out whatever popped into his head.

There I go again. Talking about _us_ and _the good old days_. I really shouldn't hurt myself taking a trip down memory lane. I might remember something that I longed to forget. Oooh, Fiona's going to get a nasty shock next pay day. I wished she never told me take a rest and try not to kill anyone. I wish she never told me to go and see Percy. I wish that I hadn't killed Percy. I just suppose that my killing instinct took over. It's terrible scary, you know. When killing becomes a part of your nature.

* * * *

Just grin and bare it. This is what, four months, since Percy's funeral. Four months since I came out into the real world. All this sunlight is blinding me. I compalined to Fiona and she simply told me off for whining and to take life as it comes like a good little girl. That was a little perculiar as I'm a year older than her. 

Ron and Harry are coming over to my flat for dinner tonight. Wonderful. I'm dreading it so much. Life is just so cruel to me at times. But I suppose it's just repaying me for all those lives I've taken. Not much pain it's causing me though. It's just giving me these awful senses of dread and guilt. I think my conscience has come back for a visit, the stupid git. I thought I fired it. 

I had another dream last night when I slept. I've noticed that I've been doing a lot of sleeping these past few months. It's un natural for me to sleep so much. But last nights dream was well, _creepy_. Percy visited me. And it was terrible. It just replayed the scene of his death repeatedly.

_'So you're a professional killer?' He said, looking almost ready to call security. _

_ _

_Ouch. That would be harsh. Getting taken in by the oaf who had escorted me up to the board room._

_ _

_I gulped and nodded._

_ _

_Percy's eyes grew wide with shock, and he swallowed. 'A-a-and why exactly have you come back?'_

_ _

_I took a deep breath and looked at him hard. 'Well,' I said slowly. 'I've been hired to, how do I say this…, take someone out of the Ministry. For good.'_

_ _

_Percy began to back away, hastily putting a chair between us. 'Who?' He stammered. _

_ _

_A tear trickled down my face, but I quickly brushed it away. 'You.' I said quietly, instantly regretting it._

_ _

_He suddenly moved very quickly towards the door._

_ _

_'I'm calling the guards.'_

_ _

_'Don't!' I cried, a few more tears started to make they're way down. 'I'm not going to do it!'_

_ _

_I moved quickly towards him and touched his arm._

_ _

_He jerked it away._

_ _

_'Don't touch me, murderer!' He growled. _

_ _

_I had a sudden vison of Harry and Sirius in the Shreiking Shack in my third year. Before Harry knew about Wormtail._

_ _

_I pulled out my wand and pointed it at him._

_ _

_'If you do anything,' I said, my voice quavering. 'I'll do something that I don't want to do.'_

_ _

_He paled very quickly. 'What have I done to make you want me dead?' He stuttered._

_ _

_I shook my head. 'Nothing.' I whispered. 'It's not me. It's my client.'_

_ _

_'That's just as bad. Why does this "client" want me dead?'_

_ _

_I choked back a cry._

_ _

_'I think you had an affair with his wife.' I sobbed._

_ _

_His eyes proved he knew what I meant. And who I meant, which was good for him as this client had wished to remain anonymous. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he strode over to me._

_ _

_'You tell your client to bugger off.' He spat, grabbing my wrist and holding it tightly. It was getting harder to hold the wand._

_ _

_'Percy,' I said lamely. 'Please forgive me.'_

_ _

_He instantly backed away and drew his wand._

_ _

_'You murderer.' He said harshly. 'You murdering mudblood. You're going to Azkaban.'_

_ _

_He advanced onto me like a bull towards the red flag. Suddenly all thoughts of doing the right thing escaped my head. And I did the thing that had become a part of my nature._

_ _

_'Avada Kedavra.' I whispered._

_ _

_He looked at me with sad eyes and his lips parted as if to say something. But it was too late, he toppled silently to the floor._

_ _

_I put my wand into my pocket and looked at my hands. And began to scream like a banshee._

I woke up out of breath and almost in tears. For once in my miserable life, I felt pangs of regret. Great big pangs. As if I was at the epicentre of an earthquake. My conscience had come back into town and was making my life hell.

* * * *

Ron took a sip of his wine and looked at Harry and I. He gave me a lop-sided grin. I smiled weakly back.

'So Hermione-' He hiccoughed. 'What _have_ you been doing these past _ten_ years?'

'I've already told you, Ron. I'm a mortician. I run pet funerals.' I said for the fifteenth time that night.

He laughed. Which was a different reaction from the last times. I rolled my eyes. He was a little tipsy. No, scrub that. _Very_ tipsy.

'You! A _mortician_!' He snorted. 'I can't believe it. I _won't _believe it! You're more of the Professor type. Or the successful literature person. You're not a _mortician_!'

I shrugged. I think I've been doing a lot of shrugging lately. 'So? I make good money from it.'

It was Harry's turn to laugh now. 'You make good money from burying _pets_?'

I nodded. 'Yes.' I said, irritably. 'And it's a growing business.'

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. And I noticed Ron giving a small nod. Harry took a deep breath.

'Hermione… We have been extremely curious to know why you left Hogwarts just before we finished. And how come you never contacted us?'

I bit my lip. 'I realised that there was more to life than Hogwarts. So I ran away.' I said finally.

'Whatever.' Harry sighed. 'That's still not a good reason.'

I rolled my eyes again. 'I have my own _personal_ reasons.' I snapped.

Ron leaned forward to me, and I could smell the wine on his breath. He was definitely drunk.

'What about _us_? You just left me!' He stammered loudly.

My eyes narrowed. 'There is no _us_. There never was.'

Ron's eyes widened with shock. 'B-b-but you _loved_ me. And I love you!'

I raised an eyebrow. 'You _still_ love me?' I said disbelievingly.

He grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. 'Yes, Hermione. I still love you.' He looked perfectly serious, and uncannily sober.

'You're drunk.' I said, brushing his hand away. 'You're talking nonsense.'

He shook his head. 'I'm not talking nonsense.' He rasped. 'I love you.'

I snorted. 'Bull.' I said shortly, grabbing my coat. 'I'm taking a walk.'

I stood up and strode over to the door and walked out.

I could hear Harry calling after me. 'But Hermione! It's _your_ flat!'

* * * *

I decided to go over to Fiona's apartment. I needed somewhere to rest and I _certainly_ wasn't going to go home. They'd be waiting there. And I wasn't sure whether I wanted to talk to them for the moment. I racked my brain for Fiona's flat number. It was either 13 or 4, but I may as well try both. I pressed the button to call upstairs, and trust my luck, a tired Fiona answered.

'Who's there?' She yawned.

'It's Hermione.' I said impatiently. 'Let me in.'

'Hang on…'

A small buzz came from the door and I pushed it open. Fiona's the only witch other than me to live in a muggle apartment. I stepped into the lift and pressed number 13. When the door opened, Fiona was there waiting for me.

'Hermione,' She said, scratching her head. 'What're you doing here?'

'I was in a terror zone at home.' I said simply. But seeing her confused look, I hastily added. 'Ron and Harry came for dinner.'

She looked at me sympathetically. 'I've tampered with the last of the files.' She told me. 'Poor Oscar thought I was only visting him.'

'Thank you.'

Fiona, like me, is a disappearing person. But unlike me, she has an incredible social life. She conveniantly has boyfriends dotted all over the place, mostly security guards or members of the Ministry. Oscar was one of them. I had met him once at a party and he was a small young man who was in charge of the Ministry Files. And anytime Fiona and I were close to being found, or caught, Fiona simply paid Oscar a visit, taking a few of the files and changing them to suit our needs. I trust Fiona, and I know that whenever she goes to Oscar, both our lives are in her hands. And I think that she updates her files too.

'Come in Hermione, fancy some tea?'

I shook my head. 'I think I'll go and get some sleep.' I said, heading to the guest room.

She smiled. 'I'm going to have some tea before I sleep.'

I yawned and went to the room.

At about 2.00 am, I heard the telephone ring. I heard Fiona rush to the kitchen where the phone was and quickly pick it up, so it would stop ringing and stop disturbing. But, too late, I was already up, and I crept into the coridoor. She was speaking in a hushed voice, but I could hear her well. And for some reason, I was tempted to eavesdrop. So I did.

'Yes sir… She's here… Staying with me…. Her friends were at her flat but she couldn't cope… Yes, sir…. The money sir?… Oh, Yes sir!… Shall I meet you tomorrow at, say, 3.30?… Yes, sir. But _where_ sir?… At Flourish and Blotts… That's a marvelous idea, sir!… Oh, alright, sir. I'll stop calling you sir, sir…. Yes, sir. I'll tell you everything… My account number is 1305…_ Six hundred thousand galleons, fourteen sickles and eight knuts_, sir?... Oh, thank you, sir!… Goodbye sir!… Oh, alright, _Mr…_… Goodbye!'

I swore silently at myself for not picking up the name. Fiona was obviously speaking about something to do with me… but _what_? I settled my head by saying it was a birthday present. But I decided to check up on her at 3.30 at Flourish and Blotts tomorrow. 

* * * *

Flourish and Blotts still smelled the same. Like _books_. And I remembered buying many books here. The Standard Book of Spells, The Monster Book of Monster's with Ron…

There I go again. Thinking of _Ron_. I wonder if he really _does_ still love me? It's a bit pathetic, still loving me after ten years, in my opinion. I know there's a buried part of me that still loves him. But like I said, it's _buried_. Buried, just like those pets. Fiona managed to put on a record that I own a pet funeral parlour, and I had had it for about five years. It apparently flourished as many people wanted to bury their "Mittens", "Snowball" and "Postie-poos". So that was the reason why I'm quite well off. But I still don't understand why Fiona chose being an undertaker. I suppose it was for a laugh. It's one of the closest jobs to my real one – it has to do with the dead. Lovely.

I looked at my watch. 3.30. And I could tell that Fiona was becoming restless. She was a few bookcases down, and I was wearing my invisibilty cloak. She was fumbling with a book. _L'Histoire de Beaxbatons_ was the title. She was just turning the book over and over. Talk about obsessive compulsive.

A man walked into the shop and made a beeline to Fiona. She smiled nervously at him, but I couldn't catch his face. She spoke to him in a hushed whisper and handed him the book. And I could see him inspecting it, flicking through it. He stopped at a page and pulled out a piece of paper that had been put in there. I caught a glimpse of it. It was a photo. Of Fiona and I at a party. I think it was a banquet for Fiona's cousin's wedding, or something like that. She tapped the picture of me. The man nodded and with a twirl of his cloak he left. Fiona let out a sigh of relif. 

Inside I was boiling up with anger. She was engaging in affairs with an outsider. And somehow I was involved.

* * * * *

There we go. The end of that chapter. Isn't that nice?

Well, I have a long thank you list, which is good as I wasn't expecting to get that many reviews.

*ahem*

**A.Spinnet** _(Since you're my beta, I think that you're review was really nice. But you'd better do a better job at spelling when you're betaing next time!), _**Crystal**_ (Thanks for the tip.), _**velvet sun**_ (Hey! I knew I forced you into reviewing, but I didn't realise you liked it that much!), _**Pices Girl**_ (I like doing out of character things..), _**Astra BZ**_ (Ooh! A long review! And another twisted person! Wahooo!), _**anonymous**_ (er- thanks. Does that count as a flame?), _**Sirius Black**_ (Twisted stories are cool. That's what's up with it.), _**Lily Weasley** _(Thanks, I'll keep you in mind for a Beta for another one of my stories… I've got one for this one!), _**Josi** _(Thanks! And Harry was very moody because he was! I can't tell you know though..), _**Silverbolt** _(I'll write more! Promise!), _**Corey** _(Was it really that predictable? I'm glad that you like the BAD Hermione.), _**Afan** _(It was deep? And Tragic? Coool!), _**Satine** _(Okay about Harry. He was just in a mood. Glad you liked Fiona!), _**Wild Cat** _(Here's you're 10 points and another 5 for being you!), _**Ides of Diamonds**_ (Thanks! I was sad that I killed off Percy…), _**Queen Kate** _(Odd sense of humours are the BEST!), _**PikaCheeka** _(Unusual stories get better reviews! Read the other ones!), _**drops of jupiter**_ (Happy you liked it… and I love your name!), _**Gambill**_ (Finally! A worrier after Ron! He doesn't work for the Ministry.), _**Sunshineglow**_ (Hermione has issues…), _**Dru**_ (Dark humour is my middle name!), _**Erica**_ (Wow! That was really nice of you to say that!!), _**FanFicChick**_ (I'm very glad you liked it… there's a lot of things you don't know about me…), _**Anja Lesinsky**_ (You like the word tasty, huh? Thanks for the great review!), _**draicana**_ (I'm a PURE GENIUS? Awww… thanks!), _**Misty Potter**_ (Thanks… I love it too! My mind is very weird…)._

_ _

Whew! 26 reviews! That inflated my ego big time! And I am soo proud to see the amazing amount of CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM! Give yourselves a pat on the back.

_ _

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	3. Screaming is Not Good

Chapter 03

* * * * *

There is a Disclaimer to this story. It is that the characters that I am using are of _JK Rowling_'s property. The story was, interestingly enough, inspired by the film "_Grosse Point Blank_" (Don't blame me! Blame the telly!!) and some of my dialogue is loosely taken from it. Also, it suddenly occurred to me after one review, that my story is a little bit like the film "_The Whole Nine Yards_", so I've decided to say that I never meant for it to wriggle it's way into the story, but Fiona, like the dentist's secretary in "_The Whole Nine Yards_" has a taste for killing. In the same review, I was told that my story was a little like "_Pulp Fiction_" and I would like to say that I've never seen the film.

This is my very first piece of Fanfiction. But I'm not going to go off and say that you must be gentle because I'm just a beginner. To be honest, I don't mind whether I get a Flame or a Brilliant Review, though a brilliant review is much preferred. In my opinion; Flames are useless. But if you have something good to say, like my grammars all wrong, or that the story is too vague and you have a suggestion on how to improve it. Then the _constructive criticism_ is welcomed with opened arms.

The third chapter is just what I would call: The Third Chapter. It's not th beginning or the end. It's not even really the middle. It's just the third chapter. It could be very eventful. Or it could not…

* * * * *

**_Chapter O3 – Screaming is Not Good_**

* * * * *

_"A true friend stabs you in the front"_

– **Oscar Wilde**

I aimed my wand carefully at the skinny woman as she lit up a cigarette. I knew her name. It was Natalie Down. And I met her a couple of times, awfully nice, sweet and polite. She was a few years my senior, awfully mature and just _lovely_. You'd never take her for a crook. But she was in the inner circle of the London Underground. And no, I don't mean the tube. I mean the criminal underground. She was quite a character. And now she had conned one too many people, and this one was also in the inner circle. Albert Hall. That was his name, not his real one, obviously, but that was what he went by. And Natalie Down had got him in a lot of trouble with the authorities. It was pay back time. But I was the thing that killed her. I was the one who would get another ball and chain on me when I died. 

I breathed deeply, like I had done with the man in Paris. Concentration was vital. One false move, one daydream could blow my cover to pieces. And frankly, when it came down to the nitty-gritty, I preferred her to die than me.

A droplet of sweat fell off my nose. It shouldn't have been so hard to pop her off right there and then. She wasn't in a public place. She was just at home, on her terrace, having a fag. Her husband was inside, probably having a shower from the sounds of the opera coming out of the third window. I bit my lip in total and utter concentration.

Then something set me off. Something that I probably would never have set me off a few months ago. A tall, quite handsome teenage boy came out into view. Closely followed by a young girl of about eleven. I froze. I went catatonic. Suddenly, I couldn't do it. It began to occur to me for the first time in ten years that this person had a life. That every one I had so carelessly deleted had a life. And someone who loved them. I knew that everyone had at least one person who loved them on this earth. And this woman in front of me had a loving husband and children. Their lives would be wrecked if she died. And they probably didn't even know that she was a criminal. I knew she was a nice person to be around. I had met her. 

I began to shake uncontrollably. I couldn't do it. No amount of will power could make me do it. I tried to snap out of it but I couldn't. My wand was going mental, shaking like I was. I bit my lip harder, drawing blood.

_Come on Hermione, _I growled to myself. _You can do it. Don't be such a baby._

I fixed my eyes on Natalie Down. Her daughter had her arms around her, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. Down was beaming. The cigarette was out in an ashtray. I knew that Down didn't smoke with the children around. Somehow I knew that. Concentrating began to get harder and harder. My whole body felt like it was going into some sort of seizure. A tear rolled down my cheek as I tried to pick myself up together. 

Then I did the unforgivable. The worst thing I could ever do. And considering I was up a tree, I was in the worst position ever.

I screamed. 

I screamed a scream that I thought I would never scream. The scream of someone about to have a nervous breakdown.

Down's head snapped up and her children were suddenly very alert. She grabbed her wand and started exploding the bushes. Then the trees. One by one, the trees were left stark naked, with no leaves to cover them. Two more trees then it was me. She would get me. 

Still shaking, I shoved my wand into my pocket. Then I took a deep breath and apparated, just as she hit my tree.

* * * *

Fiona was in the office as I apparated in. She was on the telephone to someone, but she immediately hung up when she saw the state up was in. She rushed to me, putting an arm around my shoulders. I was shivering badly.

'Ms. Granger!' She gasped, settling me down into a chair. 'What's happened to you? Did the job go wrong?'

I nodded numbly.

She gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm. 'Would you like to tell me what happened?'

The thoughts of Fiona and the person in the black cape at Flourish and Blott's flew out of my head. And I told her. I told her about my careful planning to get Down, scraping my knee climbing up the tree and my articulate aiming. I told her about the children and how I snapped. I told her about the conscience that had finally caught up with me. 

And when I was done, the reaction was something I didn't quite expect.

She picked up her wand off the table and inspected it closely. She took a deep breath and looked at me hard.

'Would you mind if I went and did the job for you?' She asked.

I looked at her, my eyes widening.

'P-p-pardon?'

'Would you mind if I went and did the job for you?' She repeated slowly, as if I was some dumb being.

'Why?' I stammered.

'Oh…' She sighed. 'It's just that I've always wanted to kill someone.'

I nearly fainted.

'You see,' She continued. 'You always get the fun job. You get to go out. I'm stuck here in this office punching numbers.'

'B-b-b-but you're my _secretary_!' 

Fiona shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. The thing is that you're going to get into big trouble with a certain Albert Hall if you don't erase Down. And then your own life is at risk. So if you can't go through with it, then I'll do it for you. And you still get paid. All I'm asking for is a small percentage.'

For some odd reason, it made sense. So I agreed. She could kill Down.

'How much are you asking for?' I asked cautiously.

I saw a small glint in Fiona's eyes. 'Just 30%.' She said. 'You already pay me far to well.'

I privately agreed. I did pay her far too much. But that was the price of keeping my identity a secret.

I put out my shaking hand and she took it. 'Deal.'

* * * *

I knocked on the plain wooden door of number 28 Duckpool Parade. It was the door of quite a nice looking house. Very well kept. Everything from the steps until the window seemed squeaky clean. It brought back memories of when I was in Switzerland on a job, very neat. Number 28 Duckpool Parade was the house of Mr and Mrs Neville Longbottom. And I was going over for dinner. Neville owled me an invitation to their dinner party. A dinner party. That meant that there were other people coming along. Yuck. I hate being around so many people. Especially if I knew them from my Hogwarts days. But I was looking forward to seeing Ginny. I assumed that she was the 'Mrs' in the Mr and Mrs Neville Longbottom.

The door opened revealing a tallish woman with blonde hair and rosy cheeks. She looked as if someone had died, very sad. And her make up was smudged. I stepped back. 

'Er – Is this the home of Neville Longbottom?' I asked. 'I'm looking for it.'

The woman broke into what I could tell was a forced smile. 'You must be Hermione!' She said. 'You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you at Hogwarts!'

I gave her a puzzled look. 'I'm terribly sorry.' I said slowly. 'But I can't remember who you are.'

She didn't look annoyed, as I had expected her to be. Instead she let me inside the home and took off my coat, still giving me that false smile.

'I'm Hannah.' She said. 'Hannah Longbottom.'

I blinked.

She let out a weak giggle. 'Oh! Sorry! My maiden name is Abbots! I was in Hufflepuff. We were in Herbology and Muggle Studies together, before you dropped Muggle Studies.'

A vague memory of a squat blonde girl who always wore pigtails popped into my head. I nodded slowly.

'Ah yes… Now I remember.'

She led me down a small hallway of the house, presumably to the living room. 

'Neville!' Hannah called. 'Hermione's here!'

She steered me into the living room. And Neville shot out of his chair.

'Hermione!' He said warmly, giving me a hug and a peck on each cheek. 'So glad that you could make it!'

I forced a smile. 'I'm happy I could make it too.' I scanned the rest of the room. And unfortunately, I saw many familiar faces. Several of them made their way to me. I began to wish that I could've become a miner. Then I would've been able to dig my way out of there. But, as it turned out, I chose to be a professional killer rather than a miner.

Oh brilliant. Now Harry's heading towards me. Urgh. I grabbed the nearest glass of drink from the passing servant. It was obvious that this was a very high class party. 

'Harry!' I said in a false tone of happiness. 'How are you?'

He too embraced me and gave me a kiss on both of my cheeks.

'I'm fine.' He said, looking at the ground. 'You?'

'Oh! I'm fine… just fine!' I said, laughing nervously. The scream of that afternoon was still boring into the back of my brain.

Harry looked straight at me with a look of concern. 'What's wrong?' He asked me directly.

'Nothing that would matter to you.' I snapped.

I suspected him to persist on the subject, but he just dropped it, taking a large gulp from his glass. I glanced uncomfortably around me. I could see people who I guessed to be Parvati Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan dotted among the crowd. 

'You a bit surprised then?' He said finally, slicing through the silence between us.

I jumped, startled. 'Pardon?' I said feebly.

'Are you a bit surprised that Ginny's not Nevilles wife?' He repeated.

I nodded. 'Yes… Yes, I am.'

He shrugged and smiled. 'Do you want me to tell you the story?'

I nodded again. I had that feeling that me saying no wouldn't stop him from telling me this tale. It obviously would give him a buzz to do so anyway. And I've been told it's not good to deprive the sad people.

'Neville and Ginny did eventually get married.' He said. 'It was an amazing wedding, very quaint. And not at all traditional like you might have expected it to be. It was a nice outdoorsy one in this moor somewhere out in Scotland. Arthur managed to make the area unplottable for the occasion, dunno how many strings he had to pull to get it done. And so they lived pretty happily for a while in a nice little house in Greater Littleton. Yeah, I think that's what the town was called. Anyway, they tried for a kid a few times, all miscarriages. Which was horrible. Ginny was nearly disowned by Molly for the shame of the family, no Weasley, past or present had ever miscarried. And then they kind of grew apart from each other, Ginny becoming a total wreck because her kids died. Then she went totally mad one day and applied for divorce. Muggle divorce. You can't divorce in this world, but any muggle divorce is accepted in our world as a part of tolerance of some sort of shit like that. Oh, I have no bloody idea.'

Here he took a deep breath.

'So you can imagine Neville's poor shock when this lawyer appeared on his doorstep with all these papers saying that Ginny no longer wanted to be his wife – I'll tell you now, he nearly died of shock there and then. But he still loved her, and he would've done anything for her. So he signed the damn papers. And he even carried the bags out to the car for her. It wasn't one of those messy split ups, they're still good friends, though a bit dodgy at times.' 

I looked at Harry. Stunned. He smiled and took another gulp from his glass.

'Anyway. A few years later, Neville bumped into Hannah here. He fell in love with her before you could blink and proposed to her before she could even begin to think about it – I'm giving them a few more years until one of them comes to their senses.'

I looked around nervously, clutching my un-sipped glass. 'So…' I began, 'How have you been?'

'I'm alright.' He said. 'Could you excuse me for a moment? Nature calls.'

I smiled again, and looked around for someone else to talk to. I was approached by the last person I wanted to see. 

Ron.

But thankfully this time he wasn't drunk.

'Hello Hermione!' He said cheerfully, raising his glass of champagne to me. 'How's life?'

No embrace. No 'hello' kiss. And no signs of stupid drunkenness. But at least there weren't any silly alcohol inspired bits of love confessions spouting out of his mouth like the last time. I took a deep sip from my glass.

'Hello Ron.' I replied dully. 'I'm fine, thanks.'

He laughed. 'That's good! – Any plans for Christmas?'

I cringed. I personally hated Christmas. Far too happy in my opinion. So, other than decorating the office with Fiona, who unfortuantely was the greatest lover of Christmas the world has ever known, I wasn't going to do anything. Except, perhaps, watch the cartoon specials on the telly. Re-runs of _Bob the Builder_ and _Banana Man_ were just my style.

'Yeah… I'm popping over to France to visit my cousins.' I lied.

He frowned. 'Oh damn! Mum was wondering if you'd like to come over to our place for Christmas.'

I smiled through gritted teeth. 'Well tell her I'm sorry I couldn't come and that I'll send her a card.'

He shrugged and scratched his nose. 'Alright, then – I was sort of hoping you could come along too.'

Oh great, not again.

'Oh?'

'Yeah – Do you remember what we were talking about last time we saw eachother?'

I grimaced. 'Depends. Do you mean when you were drunk and you told me you loved me or you do mean about what I've been doing these past ten years?'

He bit his lip. 'The first one.'

'Oh. Brilliant.' I said. 'What is it then?'

'I was being serious.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'That's really sad, Ron.' I said crispily. 'Still having feelings for someone who left your life ten years ago, really sad. I think you should've moved on by now – I have.'

Ron didn't seem to notice what I was saying though. Bloody idiot. He should really seek therapy.

'Listen, Hermione.' He said slowly. 'I'm not saying that I haven't been over you. Merlin knows how many girls I've gone out with to get over you. What I'm saying is that one day, you just _had_ to come back into all of our lives and I found that I couldn't get over you because I love you.'

I looked at him sternly, finishing off my glass. 'Oh, so it's all _my_ fault is it?' I said acidly. 'Just because you claim to love me doesn't mean I still love you, Ron. I don't love anymore, because it gets you into trouble. '

And with that, I walked off into the crowd. But not before tripping over the carpet. And swearing loudly.

* * * * *

I quickly snapped out of my daydream during the dinner. I was just eating the spaghetti cabonara absent-mindedly when someone called my name. 

It was Hannah. 

Still as pale and tear-stricken as ever.

'Would you like to come and help me in the kitchen, Hermione?' She said.

Oh great. I thought this little party had chefs and waiters and stuff. And I have to go and help her in the kitchen? And why _me_ out of all the guests.

By then I should've realised that "Help in the kitchen." Really meant: "Can I talk to you in private?". But I was a bit sloshed up by then and not fully conscious. I was watching myself carefully. A quick slip of the tongue could reveal my little 'secret' of professional killing.

I sighed. 'Of course, Hannah.'

I stood up and followed her into the massive kitchen where there were loads of cooks at work. The human kind, not the house-elf kind. She motioned me to follow her into a smaller room off the kitchen.

She briskly closed the door behind me and began to cry.

Shocked. I stood there on my spot, lamely watching this grown woman crumble down into deep heavy sobs. 

I moved slowly to her. Why me? I wasn't used to handling emotions or emotional people. I patted my hand on her shoulder.

'Do – do – do you want me to go and get Neville?' I asked cautiously.

She shook her head and took in a few breaths. 

'No – I need to speak with you.'

'Oh. Alright.'

She motioned to a stool that I hadn't noticed before. 

'Sit.'

So I sat. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

'What were Percy's last words?' She asked me softly.

My eyes widened. This of all things? And _Percy_? Oh _excellent_. I'm being questioned on the very thing I murdered, killed, erased. The very thing that brought me back into this horrid world.

I racked my brain quickly to find something suitable.

'Well…' I said slowly. 'What he said wasn't _that_ heroic or anything. He said: "Interesting – a pet burial company. Well done, Hermione – I see you've made it successfull in life."'

She laughed weakly. 'At least he got to finish his sentence.' She said.

I shrugged. 'Are you sure you don't want Neville here? Or perhaps Susan Bones…'

Hannah immediately shook her head and looked at me seriously. 'I need to tell you something. Something that you must promise to not tell anyone else.'

'You shouldn't tell me.' I said quickly. 'I'm not very good with secrets.'

I was very anxious to not get too chummy with Hannah, the last thing I needed was a great secret of hers, or anyones, to burden me.

'But I must tell you!' She cried. 'I have to! Or else I'll explode!'

I shook my head. 'But couldn't you tell someone like Neville or Susan or even Justin? Why me?'

At this point, she was sobbing greatly. 'No! I can't tell them! They wouldn't understand! Especially Neville! He couldn't understand anything even if the rules on _how_ to understand came up to him and hit him in the face!'

'Well I won't listen.' I said cruelly.

'You have to listen! You _must_ listen!' She shrieked. 'Or else you'll be sorry!'

'Fine.' I said scathingly, slumping back onto the stool. 'Tell me.'

'Thank you.' She breathed.

'Well?'

'Well, you see – '

* * * * *

Fear my wrath peoples! I am done with this chapter! Muahahahahahahahhahahahaha! Feel the suspense curdling your blood!! Nyeah nyeah nyeah.

Anyway, like a person at the BAFTAs, the Cannes Film Festival and the Academy Awards, I have a very long thank you list, starting from where I left off previously:

**Rachel Ray** (thanks for loving it!!), **Raisin** (::sighs:: I know what you mean… the first chapter is always the best one… but it's great that you couldn't stop reading it!), **pimoo** (a _pro_? surely you must be high, thanx anyway), **Crystal** (I can't stop grinning here because of your review!!), **marna** (well… here's your more!), **Hermione L. Granger** (there are things I know about Fiona that will make you're hair curl, not that you need it), **Luinthoron** (oooh! METALLICA!), Luinthoron (ooh! A SECOND review!! And Percy saying 'Mudblood' was JUST because he panicked, not because he said it in everyday life), **Lisa Cove** (love the pun, thanks!), **Bunny-chan** (well then, today is finally the day you get to see a Hermione-hit-person story!! Hehehe… I'm warped), **Lisa Cove** (ooh! Another review!! And I'm glad I have a fan like you! Yet again, love the pun), **chibiUSAxsm** (er… I hope I typed that right, yeah!! I ROCK!! WAHOOO!!!), **violet** (here is the 'more work' you asked for madam!), **velvet sun** (oooh! Well… Ginny isn't dead because you see her in Chapter 01, and I'm writin'!), **Charlene** (excellent? Aaaaaaaawwwwww!!), **Sparkle-zed** (ACTION and STEAMY? This is a side of you I've never seen before!!), **Mars** (Hermione is not a very emotional person, but she slowly becomes emotional as shown in later chapters, thanx for the grrreat review too!!), **Helena Darjeeling** (delicious? Oooh! Thank you!! And I love you're stories just as much, but I've never seen "Pulp Fiction" before!!)

Thanks for all your reviews and please keep 'em coming!! Hugs - **roses** ****


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